Cravings
by shine7
Summary: Sydney has a few tequila shots with Weiss and someone unexpectedly shows up. (SydSark)
1. Cravings

**Title:** Cravings

**Disclaimer:** As if I was cool enough to have thought up "Alias!" I wish!

**Rating:** PG-13 

**Pairing:** Sydney/Sark 

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Drunk. D-runk. And craving ice cream. Tequila always made her do that. Coffee ice cream, to be exact.

But it was more than ice cream this time. With Will in witness protection and Vaughn married, she wanted more. Sark, to be exact.

How had he become her ice cream substitute? It wasn't so easy. Both of them had lost two years – her with the Covenant and him in prison.  When she first saw him, buzzed hair and all, she was so angry with his impetuous laughs. He was right: At least he remembered where the last two years had gone.

But after Simon's death, Sydney found herself craving Sark. Perhaps she always had craved him, but just hadn't realized it until now. She had equated bad with Sloane and never had opened her eyes to realize that bad could actually be appealing. In the form of Sark.

His new haircut was a mixed bag, she thought. It looked cute as hell with sunglasses, as in Mexico. But other times it made him look so severe. Older than his age. Of course, she had almost forgotten that he had aged two years since she and Vaughn had arrested him. Everyone had aged two years. Everyone but her, it seemed.

This called for another shot of tequila, she thought. Weiss was long gone, but she still had the unfinished bottle of Cuervo Gold sitting on her table, tempting her. The lime wasn't far behind. Sure, getting drunker alone may seem pathetic. But with a life like hers, what girl wouldn't want to take a little comfort in the bottle every so often? Just as long as no secrets were revealed.

No, no secrets would be revealed tonight, she was sure. Loose lips sank ships. And loose girls – well, she just wasn't a loose girl, was she?

Suddenly, a knock at the door.

It must be Weiss, she thought. Eric probably left something behind or came back to make sure that she was okay.

Sydney walked toward the door, steadying herself slightly. She was a rather sober drunk, but the six shots of tequila in three hours were beginning to take effect, even on her.

She looked through the peephole.

It couldn't be.

It was Sark.

She opened the door, startled. If he was coming to kill her, she almost didn't care. But somehow, she didn't think he was coming to kill her. If he'd wanted to do that, he would have done it long before.

"Hello, Agent Bristow," he said.

She could smell the alcohol on his breath. It overpowered even the smell of tequila on her own. Must be some fancy red wine, she thought. He always did have a weakness for all things exquisite.

She was right. He did have a weakness for all things exquisite. And he thought Sydney Bristow was the most exquisite thing of all.

"What do you want, Sark?" she asked. "I'm tired."

"I've come for something rather unusual. At least, unusual for me," he said.

"What could that be?" she wondered.

"You."

Maybe it was the tequila talking. Or maybe it was her pent-up feelings for Sark. Perhaps it was both. But either way, she lunged toward him.

"I thought you'd never come," she said, grabbing him tightly around the waist.

He was shocked. He'd driven here on a whim, with a blood alcohol level at least twice the legal limit. He wasn't used to taking such risks. But without Irina, whom he hadn't contacted for ages, he didn't know what to do. Especially after learning that his wealthy father had been executed and he had lost the inheritance. An inheritance he hadn't even been aware of. Somehow, the only thought in his mind was to seek out Sydney, rational or not. And it seemed his instincts had once again proven right. She did want him, after all.

And he wanted her. God, he wanted her.


	2. Made

**Title:** Cravings

**Disclaimer:** As if I was cool enough to have thought up "Alias!" I wish!

**Rating:** PG-13 

**Pairing:** Sydney/Sark 

**Author's Note:** This is my first time writing a detailed physical encounter, so go easy on me!

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Sydney took Sark's hand. Soft, she thought, as she led him toward the couch.

Then she had another thought. Probably manicured. A snicker. Then, a laugh. God, I really am drunk, she thought.

"What was that?" Sark asked, perceptible as always, even if a bit tanked himself.

"Nothing. I was just thinking how soft your hands are."

"But you're laughing at me," he said, with an innocent smile. She was surprised he had an ounce of innocence left, but then realized his career probably hadn't left much time for love.

She smiled back, shyly, hinting at her nervousness. While she had fantasized about this moment, she never really expected for it to happen, and now she was unsure of herself.

The pair soon reached the couch. He motioned for her to sit down first, which she did, stumbling slightly.

He sat down next, putting his feet up on the table, next to the near-empty tequila bottle. He grabbed it, taking one last swig. A little spilled around the corners of his mouth.

Sark moved to wipe the thick liquid from his face with the back of his hand.

"Wait," Sydney said, with a coy glint in her eyes.

"I'll get that."

Sark quickly dropped his hand to his side, as she moved in for the kill.

Except it wasn't a kill this time – a first for the pair. 

It was a kiss.

God, was it ever a kiss, he thought, as he felt her warm lips encircling his mouth, lapping up the remains of the tequila, before she probed his lips, begging for entrance.

He quickly complied, letter her tongue dodge in and encircle his mouth in an almost patterned motion that he surmised must have been designed to exact every ounce of pleasure from the moment. No, Sydney never did anything half-assed, he thought. And that definitely includes this.

Not one to be dominated, Sark regained his composure and decided he could show her a few moves himself. His hands brushed softly through the bottom of the hair behind her neck, and he moved it to the side, removing his mouth from hers so that he could make a trail of kisses down to the back of her neck.

She moaned slightly, almost imperceptibly. 

He recoiled, if only for a second, amazed at the thought that Sydney Bristow was moaning because of him. Because of him! He had waited over three years for this, and now the moment was here.

"Don't stop," she whispered, looking deep into his beautiful blue eyes. She was almost begging, pleading with him. He knew she never begged for anything. She never had to. Yet she couldn't bear the thought of his lips removed from her body.

Not one to disappoint her at this point, he replied with a forceful kiss on her lips. Instead of trailing down her neck, this time he trailed down the front of her button-down shirt. It was already down to the third button, due to her relaxed and drunken state, just above the hard semi-circle of the front of her underwire bra.

He undid another button, not pausing to remove his lips from her warm chest.

Another whimper, as she brushed her hands through his near-shaven head, massaging his ears.

He looked up.

She was pleading again, and he wasn't one to refuse her.

He slowly leaned back against the side of the couch, grabbing at her shirt collar and bringing her along for the ride. Now, she was almost completely on top of him.

She felt his hands moving, everywhere. She had not felt this warm for at least two years, she thought, as his fingers stroked the small of her back, just above her panties.

He soon moved his hands up higher, back on the front of her body. From beneath her shirt, he moved the open part of the shirt aside, pushing it to expose on of her shoulders, which he proceeded to kiss, nuzzling her neck with his nose at the same time.

Their mouths met again, resuming their prior searching foreplay, as he undid the last buttons of her shirt and tugged it off of her, exposing her black lace bra.

She tore her mouth away from his, upsetting him. But he soon realized it was only to pull his tight cotton t-shirt over his head. After tossing it aside, she lowered her mouth to his chest, feeling his muscles tighten with her touch.

And they were in this compromising position as the door opened. Apparently, it had been left slightly ajar when Sark had hastily entered. So, now Weiss called out, "Syd, are you okay? You left the door open …"

Sydney and Sark looked up in shock. Both were panting slightly from the physical exertion of their encounter. Sydney was sprawled on top of Sark.

The pair looked at each other and then at the shocked Eric.

"I forgot my cell phone," he said, stunned, as she covered her bra with crossed arms.

Weiss turned around and left as fast as he could, slamming the door behind without another word.

"It seems we've been made," Sark said, softly.

Sydney took his manicured hand in hers and stroked it gently, wondering what exactly had been made that evening.


	3. Unless

**Title:** Cravings

**Disclaimer:** As if I was cool enough to have thought up "Alias!" I wish!

**Rating:** PG-13 

**Pairing:** Sydney/Sark 

************************************************************************

They looked at each other awkwardly. Both knew the gravity of the situation: Now the CIA would think that something was going on between the two agents working for opposite sides.

Sydney spoke first.

"Sark," she started.

But he placed his hand over her mouth, stopping her just as soon as she started.

"I should go," he said, resigned to their now-awkward position. He cursed himself for coming over here in the first place. Now that he was beginning to sober up – and quickly, after the encounter with Weiss – he knew he never should have been so careless in the first place. And just looking at her, with her black lace bra exposing so much skin … He was slowly being ruined by her.

"I guess you should," she said. But somehow, she didn't seem any happier than him. This was the first time she had felt alive since, well, since Vaughn. Since before she disappeared. Since two years ago. And she wasn't keen on seeing this end so quickly. But then again, she also knew that anything with Sark would ultimately be dangerous. Exciting, maybe. But dangerous, definitely.

"Unless …"

She waited, curious. She really wanted the "unless" that he had just uttered, no matter what it was. Even if it was, "Unless I do my job and kill you." The night somehow would seem incomplete and unsatisfactory without a resolution, whether it be sex, death or heartbreak. Or a combination of the three. Of course, her top choice was  that things could be less complicated, that he could stay over, just lie next to her.

"Unless what?" she asked.

"Well, I'm thinking that my car is parked right outside, and just a few miles down, there is a lovely four-star hotel on Wilshire where they tend to ask few questions when their regular guest Mr. Sark arrives …" 

That sounded so risky, but so right to Sydney. After all, if Eric had already caught them, it may just be time to throw caution to the wind, for one night … or for a lifetime. And after feeling his lips on hers, she was willing to bet this was more than just a one night stand. No one could be that good a liar – even the devious Mr. Sark, she thought.

"You know this could be the end of my career," she said, still feeling a bit drunk from the alcohol combined with his intoxicating touch. She began to rebutton her shirt after picking it up from the floor. The wrinkles actually became her, he thought. Yet as reality set in, he realized he should put his shirt back on as well. She helped him, only making things worse.

"What, you think being with a professed CIA agent and Covenant assassin does wonders for a freelancer such as myself?" he asked.

She looked at him again, sizing him up. Not for the first time. But this time, she was desperate to know if she was about to make the biggest mistake of her life. Or the best mistake of her life …

Impulsively, she grabbed his hand, leading him back to the door where she had been so surprised by his entry, less than an hour before. He really had changed everything, she thought. And perhaps for the better.

He didn't ask questions. Not this time, when a beautiful – oh, just how so beautiful she could never really comprehend – woman was leading him out the door. Aggressive and in charge. He liked that. For once, he didn't have to be making all of the decisions. At 24, that was too much pressure to deal with all of the time.

After shutting the door behind them, Sydney saw his convertible waiting in the driveway.

"Nice ride," she said, admiring the sleek, silver BMW M3.

"It's a rental," he said, shrugging it off. "Hardly compares to the ones I've got back at home."

Home? She didn't think a man like him even had a home.

But soon, she would find out. And the thought excited her to no end.


	4. Breeze

**Title:** Cravings

**Disclaimer:** As if I was cool enough to have thought up "Alias!" I wish!

**Rating:** PG-13 

**Pairing:** Sydney/Sark 

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The couple sped through the streets of L.A. – first residential, near Sydney's house, and then toward the bright lights of the city. Then, up the Pacific Coast Highway.

"I thought we were going somewhere on Wilshire," Sydney said, as the breeze whipped through her hair. She was beginning to get a little nervous. After all, she was sobering up. And she was with Sark, master of the unpredictable.

"Change of plans," he said. "I think we should try something a bit different."

The road twisted and turned. Sark turned on the radio, letting a classic rock station filter through the car. Sydney began to get tired. She closed her eyes, taking in the sound of the music mixed with the breeze mixed with the fact that she was sitting next to her one-time enemy, waiting for something to happen between them. It seemed like weeks, but she had been drinking with Weiss just a few hours before.

Sydney drifted off to sleep. Sark looked over at her, admiringly. He never thought he would fall for a woman like this. He never thought he _could_ fall for a woman like this. But somehow, Sydney was different. She was his equal. He had finally met his match.

He pulled the car over into a deserted parking lot at a beach just north of Zuma, on the outskirts of Malibu. The weather was still rather warm for this time of year and there was a nice hint of moonlight.

Sark looked at her again, still amazed. Her hair had fallen partially over her eyes, due to the soft wind. He touched some of the strands, gingerly, moving them off her face.

She stirred awake, disoriented. She wondered where she was. But when she looked into the dark blue eyes in front of her, she knew.

She was with Sark.

"What have I done?" she thought.

He recognized that she was awake, but didn't say anything. He simply took her hand and led her out of the car.

She wondered where they were headed.

Not far. 

He sat on the trunk of the car and motioned for her to do the same.

She complied.

They both looked off into the distance, lost in thought.

Slowly, he placed his arm around her, moving her closer. As the wind hit, he rubbed her back slowly, giving her a warm glow.

She placed her hand on his thigh, and then drew her legs across his lap, so that she was sitting on him. She then leaned back, as he grasped her protectively.

Finally, Sydney broke the silence.

"I don't want this to end," she said.

He didn't know what to say. Of course, he didn't _want whatever magical thing that seemed to be occurring between them to end either. But he knew that at some point, it might, due to circumstances beyond their control._

So he decided not to say anything at all.

Instead, he lowered his mouth to her neck, then up to her lips, and they shared their second truly intimate moment of the last few hours.

It seemed that time had stopped for both of them. No more worrying about alliances and pacts and danger. Hell, they were forming their own alliance right now – one that felt much more real than any of their past ventures.

Sydney brushed out thoughts of what others might think. As hard as that was, it seemed easier than living without Sark's lips on hers at the moment.

But suddenly, headlights began moving toward the pair. At first, neither was willing to interrupt their kisses to look, but eventually Sark broke down.

A sleek black Lincoln suddenly stopped, just 10 feet from the couple.

The door opened. A man in a suit stepped out of the car.

The lights blinded Sydney for a few seconds, but soon the figure came in focus.

"Sydney, we have to talk," a sharp voice called out.

"Daddy?"


	5. Need to Know

**Title:** Cravings

**Disclaimer:** As if I was cool enough to have thought up "Alias!" I wish!

**Rating:** PG-13 

**Pairing:** Sydney/Sark 

************************************************************************

Sydney was shocked. The last person she expected to run into at this remote Malibu beach was Jack Bristow. She wondered why in the world he was there – he must have some reason.

Sark looked on in amusement. Best to always be prepared for every eventuality, he thought. He looked Jack straight in the eye.

Jack walked forward, toward the couple. Sark quickly released Sydney from his arms, and she crossed her own arms around her chest, protectively, sitting up ramrod straight on the trunk of Sark's beautiful rental.

Jack looked over the pair. His gaze went from Sydney, to Sark, back to Sydney again. He said nothing and kept his face unreadable as he dissected the scene before him.

Finally, Sark broke the silence, daring and impudent as ever.

"Mr. Bristow. What a pleasure," he said, reaching out and shaking Jack's hand. The response was hardly warm. Jack's hand sat limp in his and then quickly pulled away.

"Syndey, Mr. Sark. There is a problem," Jack said. Sydney was shocked that he did not mention the liaison between the couple that he had witnessed. "It's about your mother."

"Mom?" Sydney asked, shocked. "What is going on?"

"It seems that she has been spotted in Los Angeles, at a hotel on Wilshire. The NSC is staking out the scene, as they are unsure if she has booby trapped the place. Dixon gave me a heads up."

Sydney looked at Sark. This was the second mention of a hotel on Wilshire tonight, and she was getting curious. "You know why she is here, don't you?" she asked Sark.

Sark simply nodded.

"Why?" she asked.

"I'm afraid that's need to know," he said.

Sydney looked at her father. Surely, he would not accept that as an answer, especially when it came to her mother.

But to Sydney's shock, Jack simply nodded back at Sark. Something was going on between her father and Sark, and she had no idea what. It scared her. It was almost like her father approved of her choice of suitors, more than he ever had of Vaughn. She just wished she could know what it was that bound the two together.

Her first guess: Her mother. Irina Derevko had a way of binding everyone together.

She wasn't far off.

"Mr. Sark, I'm afraid that the NSC already has your license plate. Weiss called it in to the CIA after his little encounter with you two, and Lindsay has the phone lines there bugged. You need to ditch this car, immediately."

Sark nodded. He was expecting something of the sort. After all, it seemed inter-agency bickering in the United States government had worked in his favor more than once in the past, and this time it happened to be conspiring against him. He wrapped his arm around Sydney's shaking shoulders protectively. She seemed scared and bewildered, and he wanted to do whatever he could to calm the situation.

Jack began walking toward his car, motioning for the newfound pair to follow.

Sydney looked at Sark, questioningly. But he only put a finger over her mouth, in a motion that promised she would learn more later and then removed it just long enough for his lips to meet hers in a short kiss. His hand stroked her hair and then fell to the small of her back.

"Get in," Jack said. "I hope you're rested. Tonight's going to be a long night."

Rested? Sydney thought. After the evening that she had – getting drunk with Weiss, hooking up with Sark and driving to a remote beach where her father told her that her mother was back in Los Angeles and under NSC observation? Rested? I think not, she thought.

The couple sat in the back of the car, with Jack in the front, driving chauffer style. Sydney put her head on Sark's chest, returning to the comfort she had felt just a few minutes before, prior to her father turning her world upside down once again.

Jack started the car and quickly drove out of the deserted parking lot, with Sark's abandoned BMW left behind. He put his left hand on the steering wheel, and with his right hand he dug into a briefcase on the empty passenger seat.

"Here. Mr. Sark, I think you'll be needing this," he said.

Sydney had her eyes closed, but opened them just far enough to see the object her father had passed to Sark.

It was a gun.


End file.
